An Angel in The Darkness
by Greenkey2
Summary: My version of events between TR4 and AoD. Lara wakes up, grievously injured, beneath the Pyramid after her battle with Seth. Will her determination help her survive, and will her newfound life among the Tuareg ever help to heal the scars of betrayal?
1. Chapter 1

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

An Angel in the Darkness

Part I

My own screaming was the last thing I remembered.

A hand, with fingers light and questing, felt the cuts to my forehead and came away damp with blood. Gradually I came to realise that the hand was mine, the fingers were mine and the blood, too, belonged to me. I could not see the hand. I could not see anything. Darkness pressed down with a weight of its own; mirroring the weight of the thousands of tonnes of rock and rubble balanced precariously above me.

Consciousness returned slowly. From far off came the tumble and thunder of boulders, echoes of echoes. My nose felt clogged with dust; faintly sulphurous in the way of old, forgotten places. Where my back touched the ground I sensed vibrations; aftershocks as the pyramid's insides adjusted to their new configuration.

My tongue struggled to moisten my lips; the skin was cracked and deathly dry. I tried to sit forward but fell back, screaming in sudden agony. Where my right foot rested, half-buried beneath a block of stone, I sensed only heat, a cloying dampness. Trying to move made me reel, nearly senseless with pain; as if my lower leg were coiled with razor wire.

Memories of another broken ankle swam livid in my mind. I was fourteen, and had jumped too soon on the school assault course leaping for a rope. The ankle had twisted with the same sound as a dry twig snapping; more surprising than painful at the time. But as the memory faded I was left with a pain far more intense than any I remembered. My very bones were on fire, like metal left too long in a forge and allowed to glow white-hot.

My thirst was now unbearable; searing my throat like acid. In the absolute dark I felt around my leg, noting that the rock had not trapped it, as I had feared, but had rolled to the side after nearly crushing me. The flesh had been laid open, right down to the bone. Somewhere in my backpack was a water bottle, bandages, painkillers and emergency flares. There would even be spare ammo for my pistols, but anything worth shooting was buried even deeper in this prison than I was. Seth wouldn't be hurting anyone for a long time.

I _had_ to find that backpack.

There was no way I could walk or even stand. The pain in my ankle kept me from thinking clearly, but there were a hundred other bruises, scrapes, cuts and grazes to worry about as well.

Oh God! My heart jumped with the memory. Werner… Had he managed to get out? Was he lying dead nearby, or dying like I knew I must be?

No. I shook my head and my thoughts became clearer.

"I couldn't leave you!" he had yelled, barely audible above the earthquake's roar.

But he _had_ left me.

My hand waved in the black, tracing a memory of reaching out for his extended arm; only to have that help withdraw and fade away. An emotion suddenly overtook my pain, burning it to ashes.

It was fury.

"Coward!" my voice was little more than a whisper, but in my head I screamed. "You left me! Coward! _Coward!_ You could have done _something!_ _You could have… done something_…"

My cries dissolved into hacking sobs. I had never felt so angry, so desperately alone before. In the darkness I cried, noting with odd detachment how my tears were a foolish waste of water. I had thought Werner a friend until our brief, bloody reunion; first in the desert, then at Karnak. He had tried to entomb me and I, too slow and soft, had almost allowed him to succeed. Then he had returned, possessed as much by his own stupidity and greed as by Seth. I had beaten him again and again... only to have him turn tail and flee when I needed him most.

The coward.

My old friend.

The enemy.

My last hope.

Gone.

Drawing air into my lungs, I rolled over and crawled in the dreadful black. The reaction was immediate and terrible. A surge boiled somewhere in my belly, threatening vomit.

I thought of my father. He had climbed Ben Nevis once - a simple training run before tackling the more formidable Kilimanjaro, but had slipped and fallen during the descent. Despite a cracked femur he still made it down by himself, and enjoyed joking about it to the rest of the family.

"I don't know what's worse - a broken leg or you and your mother fussing over me!" His words came back to me, granting me hope. "Persevere, Lara, and you'll get through no matter the odds." I laughed, remembering his wry smile and ridiculous plaster cast, and realised that if I didn't stop laughing then I would chuckle myself to death. I was still lost in the dark, and had to escape no matter the cost. Otherwise I would lie down with my memories and never awaken.

The smell of greenery led me to water.

I had dragged and felt my way for a lifetime when a fresh breeze suddenly appeared, wafting the hair from my face. Trusting my nose, I was guided to a shaft of light streaming from the ceiling, illuminating a perfect Eden in miniature. Sprays of ferns and grasses grew in crazy profusion, surrounding a circle of water; deepest lapis at its centre lightening to aquamarine around the edges. All thoughts cast aside I fell into it; cupping huge mouthfuls of liquid that washed the mustiness from my throat, soothed the fire in my stomach. For several minutes my entire world revolved around sheer relief, the knowledge I had been granted a few more precious hours of life.

Having slaked my thirst I examined my wounds. It made my head spin just to _look_ at the ankle; a tip of shattered bone was protruding hideously from the slashed and swollen flesh. I did my best to wash it clean; but worried that I had nothing to bind the wound closed. Blood continued to ooze freely from it; though slower than it had done before. I knew enough about first aid to realise it was a bad sign.

"Don't act more stupid than you feel, Lara." I growled to myself, suddenly remembering the gun belts I still wore. After some crafty improvising I had stopped the bleeding with a tourniquet. The thought that my shorts were now in serious danger of falling down didn't even cross my mind. I had water, I had light and I was alive. After the hell I had just crawled through I wasn't going to complain.

I would have sold my soul for some morphine though.

The light came from an opening high above; a narrow shaft from which water fell in a broken trickle so that by the time it reached the ground it was more like fine rain. There was something else up there too. Shielding my eyes against the glare, I looked up to where it joined the ceiling and there, in the gloom, was a rope.

A well!

The knowledge came flooding back. Maps and charts flashed before me - the Pyramids and Giza, the great swathe of desert arcing across towards Cairo and, dotted about like constellations of life, natural water sources linked by underground caverns. The ancient pyramid workers must have made use of these during construction; avoiding the need for a single water supply. When the pyramids were finished, all they needed to do was block off the passages and allow the oasis at the surface to fill once more.

_And Seth's earthquake reopened the passages_… I mused. How fortunate for me; if I could only learn how to fly.

A cold sensation cut short my daydreaming. It came from my torn ankle - it suddenly came home to me how much blood I had lost. I fought to ignore the pain - that could be dealt with when I had time - but I was so weary and light-headed. It would be crazy to try rope climbing feeling like this - it was hard enough without a broken ankle!

_I just need to rest a minute,_ I said to myself, sitting down on the cold stone.

_No! Rest here and you die. Get to the rope while you still can._

_Who are you?_ I asked. The light in the cavern was beginning to fade.

_You blockhead, I'm you! The one who always get you out of trouble; the one who's kept you alive up till now. Now get off your backside and start climbing!_

The voice was really annoying now. If I could only close my eyes for a moment I could sleep and it would shut up.

_Lara listen to yourself! Open your eyes, get on your feet, climb the rope and get out of this place! You're dying here!_

_It doesn't matter,_ I replied. Sleep was so tempting now; and the cavern so cold and dark. _They're all dead already; mother and father. No one will miss me. I did what I came here to do. No one needs me anymore._

I felt so peaceful. I've never cared what others thought of me, but in that moment I _really_ didn't care. I was dying and this was where I belonged; in a tomb, in a country I loved and cherished.

Apart from all the sand… it gets _everywhere_…

The cavern was fully dark now. No sunlight, no starlight or moonlight, not even a glimmer of that pure and awesome blue nimbus Horus had cloaked himself with back underneath the pyramid. I could see his burnished golden face hovering in front of me, regarding my wounds with ruby-coloured eyes. It was good to see him again, even though I'd never got a thank you for all that work I did salvaging his armour.

_My apologies, Lara Croft. I never thanked you for all you did for me._ His voice was glorious, and smoother than Winston's cocoa.

"Oh, you're welcome," I murmured, smiling. "Saving the world and running errands for Gods are my forte. I'd offer you a drink but Winston would kill me if he knew I kept a spare key for his decanter."

_A touching gesture, but unnecessary. _The voice was right beside me now, and I felt warm hands holding me so I could see the black water. _See? I have all that I need to drink right here. It is you a drink should be offered. Go now; sup your fill of the life-water. And have my blessing, always._

"Anything you say, Horus." I felt giddy, shuffling towards the inky pool, but grateful. "You're the politest God I've…ever…..met."

I hit the water.

And so did a bucket on a chain.


	2. Chapter 2

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Part II

Someone was humming.

It was a random little tune, impossible to ignore yet compelling and rhythmic. In my dream I saw the singer, clad all in dusty black from head to toe, sitting beside a campfire made of camel dung and wood chips, stirring a metal pot that swung from a complicated framework. Every now and then they (I could not tell if it were a he or she) would toss a handful of dried leaves into the pot. The steam would change colour, and the smoke would sting my eyes.

My eyes. They were open. I was not dreaming.

"Who are you?" I croaked, trying to sit up. In a rush of sensation I realised I was naked; bundled into a mass of woven blankets and soft silks like a swaddled child. A strange sky moved overhead; neither clouds nor stars.

The figure nodded to itself, and continued stirring the pot.

I wriggled my arms and hands free of the coverings, and was shocked at how cold the air was. My eyes bored into the figure, willing it to answer. "I asked you who you are. What….you brought me up from the well didn't you? I remember… Where are we? What have you done with my clothes?"

To my frustration the figure remained mute. I repeated my questions in Arabic, French, ancient Egyptian and Hebrew to no avail. Either my rescuer (captor?) was deaf or they were purposefully ignoring me. I shuffled forward, careful to keep the cosy blankets around me, until I could look directly into the concealing mass of veils and turbans that all but hid their face.

"Can you hear me? I asked you a question!"

"Five questions actually," Twinkling black eyes regarded me with kind humour. The voice, speaking strongly accented but flawless English, was muffled by layers of cloth. "At last… we were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake. My name can wait. We are far from the pyramid. I pulled you from the well, you're safe."

"So who are…?" I stopped, registering for the first time the absence of pain. Gingerly I flexed my leg below the knee, and then ran a hand over it to be sure.

The ugly wound had completely healed.

"How…?"

"Ah, you English ask so many questions!" The figure threw up its hands, but there was laughter in the voice. "You're hardly wake and already asking too many! Please, have patience. All will be told, but now, you need more sleep. Please, here."

"No, I don't want to sleep any more," I tried to push away the bowl of liquid offered me, but the weariness had returned to my limbs. They felt so heavy all of a sudden. I did not resist as the hot tea was gently trickled between my open lips, and I slipped again into oblivion.

When I woke again the sky was grey with pre-dawn, and there was dew on my blankets. I lay beneath a bivouac, protected against the wind; which explained the lack of stars last night. It was chilly, raising goose-bumps on my bare arms. I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked about.

Dunes stretched away in every direction. Beside me a terracotta -coloured tent was pitched expertly in the sand. A ring of charred stones and foul-smelling embers marked last night's campfire. A breeze stirred my unbound hair, blowing away my fatigue. There were no pyramids, no people, no landmarks and no animals. I was alone.

Almost.

A camel, pot-bellied and moth-eaten, was sitting only a few metres away. It gazed dyspeptically in my direction, chewing the cud and batting its long eyelashes. I suddenly felt acutely modest; an unsettling feeling if only because it was unfamiliar. The damned thing was watching me!

"Go on. Shoo! Turn round. Leave me alone!" I struggled to my feet, catching the slipping blankets just in time to avert disaster. The camel burped contentedly, and kept staring at me. I suppose I should have been flattered. I was not. "Haven't you got anything better to look at?"

"Ahmak enjoys watching you," chuckled a familiar voice. "He's happy to see you awake at last."

I turned.

A figure stood in the tent doorway, coiling a rope between its wrinkled hands. It unhooked a corner of the concealing veil and for the first time I beheld their face. The nut-brown skin was weatherworn and wrinkled as a raisin. A thin pink scar traced a crescent across her cheek, and bent upwards when she smiled. Her head barely came up to my shoulder.

Her. She.

My rescuer was a woman.

"Hungry?" she asked. A pot magically appeared in her hand, and she began ladling stew into clay dishes. My stomach growled, but I stayed where I was.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Putai. Eat first, then we can answer your questions. Good?"

Reluctantly, I took the proffered dish and resumed my seat. The rising sun was swiftly turning the sky to copper, and I knew it would not be long before the desert heat set in. The broth had unusual flavours I didn't recognise but instantly fell in love with. It went down easy and perfectly filled the hole in my hunger. Oddly I felt hungrier than I could ever remember. Although my physical wounds were healed my body felt… weakened, somehow lighter and less substantial. When we had finished Putai sat back, sucking gravy off her fingers.

I must have looked questioning, because she held up a hand when I tried to speak.

"Now is not the time. I need to feed Ahmak. You can walk?" She didn't wait for an answer, but bustled off to tend Ahmak, who was eyeing the stew pot greedily. "Your clothes're not good for desert. Look in the tent and use mine. I'll keep Ahmak from peeping." She gave me a saucy wink and busied herself with the camel's breakfast.

Inside the tent lay piles of bulging cloth bundles. After some searching in the stuffy gloom I found my boots; the leather was neatly stitched where the rock had torn open the right one. I located my shirt (tattered and abused and destined only for Winston's duster drawer) and my gun belts and buckles (the leather spotlessly clean and supple with sweet-smelling oils). There was no sign of my shorts, but I sent up a silent prayer of thanks when I discovered clean underwear. A deep longing for a hot shower, soft towels and a week in my own bed bobbed into my mind, and angrily I forced it back down. I still had too much to do, and moping about like a sulky teenager wouldn't get it done any faster.

The only usable clothes I found mirrored the style and practical beauty of Putai's desert garb. A series of long, cream-coloured robes that reached almost to the floor; several yards of coarse canvas I decided must make up a turban, and a heavy veil of red linen that would guard my nose and mouth against the dust and wind. After failing several times to properly wrap on the head pieces and cursing my own ineptitude, Putai appeared and assisted me in silence.

"There. Now you are dressed." She stepped back so she could cast her expert eye over my apparel.

"What did you do with my shorts?"

She frowned. "You had none."

"Pardon?"

"You had no shorts when I pulled you from the well. It was a smart thing you did with your belts; else you'd have bled to death. I brought you here, cleaned you up. You were in a bad mess! Please don't look like that; I'm a woman too. It's nothing to be ashamed about. You were nearly dead." Her voice softened from frank amusement to a whisper. "By Allah himself I thought you were already lost when I found you. You have the mark of Darkness upon you."

The memory of Seth's baleful gaze stroked my heart with icy fingers. I pushed it aside and slammed mental doors shut behind it.

"Putai, I am grateful you saved me. But the Darkness you speak of is dead and buried beneath that pyramid. I know, I trapped him there. All I need is to rest, get back to Cairo and go home. I just need a break for a while, but I'm fine, really."

She regarded me with shrewd eyes. There was a frankness about Putai that I found fresh and intriguing, and at any other time I would have been glad to spend time exploring the desert in her company. But all I wanted right then was to return to England and I told her so.

"Not possible. You are marked." When I raised my eyebrows for an explanation she grew impatient. "The Gods have spoken to you, in Darkness and in Light. It's a rare gift… and a curse. You will not find peace, or rest, or healing while you still bear its scar. No, not that," she shook her head when I glanced at my mended ankle. "This is another type. You have a penance to pay. I know, I have also spoken with Gods and paid the price."

My eye could not help straying to the scar on her face. I cleared my throat, attempting to cover my frustration with courtesy.

"I can reimburse you for the help you have given me, but I really need to get back to England. People will start wondering if I don't send word soon. Winston alone…"

"They think you're dead." Putai interrupted flatly. "They have done for the last three weeks. In Cairo, England and across the world; in papers, on television… The whole world mourns the death of Lara Croft."

_Three weeks!_ I felt a choking in my throat, my weakness suddenly explained. "That's impossible! What about Werner? I can't... _Why haven't you taken me back to Cairo?_"

My last sentence hung blazing in the air between us. My hands had started shaking and I balled my fists to hide it. The anger felt good; it flushed my cheeks and quivered in my blood. It meant I was still alive.

Putai said nothing, but stood defiant like a tree that weathers storms on a wind-torn cliff. I suddenly realised she had called me by name.

"You knew… you knew who I was. You knew people where looking for me. You've let them believe I was dead; that I was still buried under the pyramid. Why?"

"Before I answer your questions, Lara Croft, let me ask one of you," said Putai, holding up a hand. Swinging in her grip hung an amulet on a golden chain, which she pressed it into my open palm. "Why is a stranger to this land watched over by the oldest Gods, and why are we who have served them down the ages called to your protection?"

"What… How should I know?" I snapped. The tent seemed suddenly to have shrunk. I needed air. "Leave me alone!"

Brushing past her I stepped outside, to be greeted by the rising sun. Its heat lanced me through the heart. I looked about across a desolate landscape, a profound denial rising within me. I, the daughter of Lord Croft and eminent archaeologist-adventurer, found myself wrestling with unknown and alien feelings - anxiety, shame, helplessness. I hid my face against the dawn, and for the first time noticed the amulet still clutched in my fist.

It was a scarab the size of my thumb, carved in onyx and beautifully detailed with red jasper and gold that gleamed as though molten in the sunlight. _Scarabs - sacred to Khepri, reborn each morning, the symbol of creation and eternal life..._ Facts from my academic career rose in my mind as I turned the amulet over in my hand. It was a fitting symbol for one in need of protection and guidance.

Grudgingly, I had to admit that might be me right now.

Something _had_ happened to me down there beneath the pyramid. I didn't know what, and that lack of knowledge frightened me. I have always found strength in understanding, even if that understanding was of something dangerous. For me, ignorance is a terrible entity to face; far worse than any of the other monsters I've confronted. For my own sake I had to challenge and defeat what had changed me, and take back what it had stolen.

Could I really do that alone?

A change in the air behind me signalled Putai emerging from the tent. There was silence, but I could feel her eyes on my back.

Her wrinkled hand settled softly on my shoulder.

"I was called to your side because you owe the Gods penance for what you have done. I have faced this before; that is why they sent me as your guide. Please… let me help you, Lara Croft. Let me show you what must be done for your soul to heal."

A little way off, Ahmak grunted into his nosebag. Desert sounds blew past on the wind, sand on sand, a rustle of burrowing insects, a hawk's scream. I looked up and spotted him circling warily. Such a beautiful creature with his wings outstretched; the sacred earthy form of the sun-god Horus.

I bowed my head.

"All right," I whispered. "I'm ready."


	3. Chapter 3

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Part III

My previous journeys on camel-back were a paradise compared to the trip we now embarked on.

Despite Putai's miraculous curing of my ankle, there remained an ache that grew steadily worse as the day wore on; hour after tedious, brain-numbing hour. I rode side-saddle most of the way while Putai preferred to lead Ahmak on foot. Almost from the start the animal had taken an offensive dislike to me; deliberately tilting forward too fast while I was still in the process of mounting, which left me hanging onto his jogging saddle like grim death until Putai managed to get him to slow down.

I could swear he was sniggering as I lashed myself to the saddle with bad grace, annoyed and already stifling in the heat. Putai seemed oblivious to any discomfort, so I forced myself to relax and assume my normal aspect of inner calm. It worked well for another few hours, but near noon my mask was beginning to wilt along with the rest of me.

On my travels I have endured many harsh environments - deserts and sultry rainforests, sub-zero blizzards and altitudes high enough to make even mountain goats giddy. I pride myself on my stamina; it's one thing I have always been able to rely on. But having spent three weeks hovering between life and death (if Putai was to be believed), my body now felt pathetically frail, and no desert had ever felt so empty, so vast, and so bright and blistering hot as this one.

My robes, despite being made for these conditions, gradually became itchy and oppressive. I squinted through the narrow gap in my head-wrappings, and saw only sand and bare rock stretching away to a chain of distant pewter-coloured mountains capped with white that might have been snow or cloud. The air held no moisture and I would close my eyes for minutes at a time to keep them from drying out.

"Lara! See over there!"

I started, not realising I had nodded off, and raised a hand to shield my eyes and look where Putai was pointing. Barely a hundred metres away was a flash of green, nestled between the flanks of a steep gorge. Overhead the sun relentlessly pumped out heat, and Putai grinned and clucked at Ahmak to get him moving again. I sat up straighter; the ride had aggravated my joints and spasms plucked at my lower back.

The feeling brought back the recollection of my last camel ride - to Seth's tomb with my guide, Hassan. That trip had been the starting point for this whole troubled affair - the Amulet of Horus, releasing Seth (if only I had known what _that_ would cause!), finding Horus's armour piece by piece and the marathon of seeing it safely into the sacred heart of his temple…

_Seth, ruler of evil, will again be free at the turn of a distant millennium…_

It gave me a certain amount of satisfaction to think I was in that new millennium_ now_, and the evil lay buried and forgotten along with the prophecy.

Along with a part of myself.

I almost fell from Ahmak's back in my relief to have stopped. He growled in that curious, burping way camels do and tried to take a lump out of my turban.

"Get off! Go find someone else to bother!" I swatted him away, only to have him spit angrily in my face. I yelped, instinctively brushing my eyes. Before I could move he nipped my fingers, braying evil-smelling breath. "Dammit! Push off!"

"Ahmak's just glad to have you off his back. He says you are heavy." Putai appeared and caught his reins. She muttered soothing words to him while he grumbled and I washed my face in the oasis water. A few palms had managed to find anchorage around a cleft in the rocky ground, shielded from the worst of the sun by the gorge. They stood like an honour guard to the thin trickle of water that had accumulated here in a natural reservoir. The surrounding ground was springy and green with mosses and lichens, and felt wonderful to my tired feet when I shed my footwear to bathe them in the cool water.

I sat with my back against a boulder while Putai doused her own face, and Ahmak - still irritable - bent to drink his fill.

"You look troubled, Lara. Are you feeling all right?"

My eyes remained closed. The last thing I wanted was to appear weak.

"I'm fine, thank you. It's just good to be out of the sun."

"Ah, yes. It's not far to go now. We shall rest here until it gets dark, then we can continue."

"You still haven't told me where we're going."

"To my people. The Blue People. You've lost a part of yourself Lara; they can help you find it again."

I began to get the nasty feeling Putai was reading my mind, a fact that did not improve my temper. "What makes you think I've lost anything? Apart from my shorts and a perfectly good backpack."

"I saw in your face, and I hear your words when you sleep. Always the same thing; 'Left me. Lost me. Alone in the dark.' You left something behind, or had it taken from you in that place."

"You said I owed the Gods penance," I said, deliberately changing the subject. "What exactly does that mean?"

Putai paused, and even with my eyes closed I could perceive her disapproval. But she went on, "When I was a little girl I went to many places, saw many things. In every place I felt the Gods there too. I learned to speak to them, to call them by their proper names, respect and thank them for their blessings."

As she spoke, I pictured the little girl - short for her age and scarecrow-like, with a strength that bent under life's hardships without breaking. I saw her kneeling in prayer in churches, mosques, temples and shrines of every description and faith. Her eyes carried a passionate light that took my breath away.

"I travelled the world searching for the divine, and it seemed that everywhere I looked, there it would be. Except one place… a terrible place." Her voice shrank and I opened my eyes to see her gazing out across the sands. "I will never forget. It was a cave and deeply sacred. I had no right to be there. The moment my feet crossed the threshold I knew I had violated the will of God.

"I fled, but within days I lay dying in my tent. A western doctor told my family that a spider must have bitten me. In my dreams I begged forgiveness; to know what I must do to repent. He told me…"

Just then Ahmak lifted his head and growled. I spun round, recognising danger close by.

It blew past, so close I could see every detail of the ebony feathers, the enormous black-within-gold eyes. My arm jerked as the hawk's talons raked through cloth and flesh. I fell, yelling and cursing to try and frighten it off.

"Aowayyyyy! Aowayyyya!" Putai's shouting finally routed the bird and it flapped hard to gain height and escape. It circled a few times, shrieking harshly, before disappearing into the sky.

"Here, roll up your sleeve." Putai gasped and rummaged in a saddlebag while I shrugged out of the heavy robe. Although the cuts were relatively shallow there was a lot of blood.

"Why did it attack us like that?" I asked through gritted teeth. Putai shook her head and slathered an ointment on my wounds. Too late I realised it was iodine.

"Argh! _Warn_ me next time you're about to do that, will you?!"

Putai shrugged and kept applying the foul-smelling stuff. After several minutes of washing and binding the gashes were neatly bandaged and the bleeding had stopped.

"I'm so sorry… it was not after you. It did not mean to hurt us."

"You weren't on the receiving end," I muttered. "Hawks don't just fly out of nowhere and attack people for no reason."

"There _was_ a reason, Lara, but message was not meant for you. It was warning to me – it was a token of God's anger that I discuss my own sin with you. Please forgive me..."

I blinked at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Were you not listening? This God's way of saying I should focus on helping you, not brood on my past sin that is so similar yet so different from yours."

"Maybe I don't want your help!" I got to my feet. "You're not making any sense Putai. God, I don't know what's worse; being trapped in a desert or having to listen to crazy mysti-"

"_I don't know what's worse - a broken leg or you and your mother fussing over me!"_

Putai smiled kindly. I hung my head, silently counting to ten before apologising.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean… what I just said. It's just… I was angry and-"

"Lara, there's no need to apologise," her demeanour was friendly, but also sad. "But you have _seen_ the Gods at work. You have _spoken_ with them, fought with and served them. Is it not time you started _believing_ in them as well?"

"You're not going to convert me to any religion Putai," I warned. "It's not something I get along with very well."

"Yes, I can see," she sighed, her disappointment somehow more disturbing than if she'd matched my anger with her own. "You are still so young, yet you have travelled and seen many places. Like me, you have felt the presence of the Gods. But you never… you _refuse_ to show them the respect they are due."

"Well, these 'places' are usually long forgotten by the time I find them," I tried to lighten my tone, but Putai's face only darkened further. "People stop believing, Putai. It's sad, but they move on from needing their Gods. Whole cultures do. I've seen it. Some of these temples, these sacred places… they haven't seen a human soul for centuries!"

"The _people_ may have gone Lara, but the Gods are still there," She came close and touched the scarab I wore around my neck. Her eyes held the same fire I had pictured in her youth. "As long as one person, one whisper, one _breath_ of belief remains, the Gods still live. We must _respect_ such endurance, such strength. You have been taking from the Gods for so long, Lara Croft. Is it so much to ask you _give_ something in return?"

She released the scarab and returned to attend Ahmak. I was left to myself and my thoughts. They were starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

The sun had reached its zenith when Putai disappeared on some mysterious errand. However, it wasn't long before she returned, curling up to sleep in the shadow of the palm trees. After much tossing and turning, I followed her example.

At sunset, we kindled a fire using dead palm fronds. Putai then surprised me by fetching the bread she had left to rise in the hot sun earlier, and without further ado set to cooking what she called _medfouna_. My own culinary skills are best left unmentioned, but I found a strange pleasure in chopping the onions, celery and strips of cured beef that miraculously appeared from Ahmak's saddlebags. The mixture was parcelled up in the bread and left to cook in the terracotta _tagine,_ to me looking more like a witch's hat than a cooking vessel. We ate just as the first stars started to appear. Whatever shortcomings Putai's spiritual guidance might have had, her cooking was fabulous.

"Lara, come up here."

We had finished repacking Ahmak's saddlebags and she had climbed to the top of the rocky bluff that had sheltered us. I scrambled after her and saw faint lights in the distance. "We should be at their camp by morning."

"You said you belonged to the Blue People. You mean the Tuareg?" I was familiar with the Tuareg nomads, but had never encountered them personally. The name 'Blue People' actually came from the stain their faces acquired from the indigo-dyed cloth that made up their turbans and headscarves. My father had spoken highly of their fierce vitality and knowledge of the desert. Putai shook her head.

"Ahh, I don't really belong to them," she said. "But they know me as a shaman, so don't ask too many questions. They can look after you for a while, until you… find what you need. Come, we'd better get started."

Ahmak and I exchanged dirty looks as we prepared to set out. "Don't even think about it," I mumbled so that only the camel heard me. "If you try that spitting trick again I'll show you one we humans use - with bricks."

He lifted his lip in a threatening way, but seemed to get the message. Putai bustled round and vaulted onto his back with as much grace as an acrobat. I stood there incredulous as she handed me the reins.

"This time you can lead."

Speechless, I hoisted my own bundle, grabbed the reins and started trudging.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Part IV

We arrived at the camp just as light began to stain the eastern sky. The cold was ferocious - one of the many contradictions people often forget about deserts - and even with the extra layers I had thrown on during the walk I was freezing.

People milled about us. I was dazed and so drunk with fatigue I barely noticed them. I was also resentful of Putai who had ignored me throughout the entire journey. She was a puzzle; one minute she was attentive and nurturing, the next an arrogant old bag with the power to make me feel ten years old again.

Now she slipped down from the camel's back, chatting and joking with the men who came to assist her. In the dimness they were no more than heavily-obscured shadows moving back and forth. Others hung back and herded children and animals away from the twitchy Ahmak, who now realised his work was over and was determined to be left alone to rest.

A figure was leading me towards a stone and mud-brick shelter. There were smells of bread and wood-smoke, roasting meats and cut grasses that I found too homely to reject. I bent to enter the low doorway and was shown to a pallet of blankets hung around with mosquito nets. A small lamp hung nearby, burning sweet oils. Gentle voices muttered in low conversation. I caught snatches of French, Arabic and another language I decided must be Tamahaq - the language of the Tuareg. A water bottle was pressed into my hand and I swallowed the lot in a single draught.

Without even stopping to take off my boots, I lay down and fell into a dreamless slumber.

Something cold and wet touched my face. Instinctively I lurched forward, brushing it aside. In the semi-dark someone cried out and I heard the splash of water.

"Careful! Oh so sorry, let me help…"

"What are you doing? Oh…" in the semi-darkness I made out a girl, no more than nine or ten years old, crouched on the matting next to me. She held a spongy rag in one hand, and a shallow bowl in the other. What water it must have held now soaked the ground and most of her clothes. "Sorry. You startled me."

She laughed lightly, and spoke again in melodious French.

"It's all right. My mistake; I shouldn't have leaned over like that. But your face was so dirty! How do you feel?"

"Like I just slept for two days straight," My head ached and my throat felt like I had eaten nothing but powdered bird droppings. To my relief she handed over a drink. It was tepid, but faintly minty and instantly I felt better. "Where is this? Where's Putai?"

"Nearby. You're safe, and among friends."

The speaker was a man, stooped and wry, who now knelt in the narrow entrance frowning across at me. His eyes flashed at the girl.

"Salieah! Mohammed is asking for you. Ixa's foot is bleeding again."

Salieah scraped up her things and, with a backward glance at me, squeezed past him and disappeared. He settled down on the matting and turned those startling eyes towards me.

"Putai tells us that you need our guidance," he growled. He spoke using the same French accent as Salieah had, but was nowhere near as fluent and he would lapse into more comfortable Arabic when certain words eluded him. "I've spoken with her and agreed to let you stay."

"That's very kind of you," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But I honestly don't know what she or you expect of me."

"What do _you_ expect from us?"

I threw up my hands.

"If I knew do you think I'd be asking? A lot of things have happened to me that I don't understand. Putai seems to think I need to 'find myself' before I can heal, but when I asked what that means she refused to give me a straight answer."

"Maybe there isn't one," the man grinned, showing very white teeth. "I've known Putai a long time. I don't always understand her myself, but she's never wrong. If she says we can help, we shall. In the meantime, _you_ can help us."

He got to his feet. "Salieah will be your guide while you stay here. Putai asked that you assist us in village work; but not to treat you like other women," His eyes filled with humour at some inner joke. "We shall see."

"Very well," I replied, filing away the remark about 'other women' for a later time. "What can I do?"

He rose to leave, adjusting his turban and snuffing the lamp.

"Go to Salieah. She will show you. They call me Omar. If you need me, Salieah will know where I am."

There was now enough light to see clearly by, and I followed him outside.

Half-expecting a nomadic encampment, I was surprised to find we were actually in quite a sizeable village. Stone and mud-brick walls encircled a gathering of tents of far more substantial design than the portable one Putai used. People bustled past on mysterious errands; some were carrying heavy loads of wood or water-skins, others strolling in groups laughing or chatting. Boys ran about harrying bleating goats or desert sheep, while camels barked from a wicker pen sheltered by prickly pears.

And here, miles from any river, flourished trees.

I wandered through the maze of dwellings. Occasionally someone would stop as if to say something to me, and then quickly turn and resume their conversation or business elsewhere. I felt many pairs of eyes following me, and absently stroked the scarab amulet for reassurance.

A gang of children, brightly dressed as peacocks, ran past calling and jostling, and ever curious, I followed. They led me to a large paddock shaded by massive acacias and teaming with goats. Nearby, a harnessed camel tramped up and down a narrow path, and in so doing worked a wooden pulley system that brought fresh, clean water fountaining up from the village well. The water drained into open toughs where animals were brought to drink.

Suddenly I spied Salieah kneeling beside a pregnant nanny goat. I watched with interest as she deftly removed a spiky bur from its back leg, then dressed the open wound while an elderly man held the animal still. Once done she tapped the creature's haunches and it galloped off. For the first time she noticed me and came over, grinning and wiping her hands clean.

"I thought you'd got lost," she said. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No. Actually I'm starving."

"Come on then! Did Omar speak with you?"

"Yes, but that can wait," I was anxious to avoid too much discussion before breakfast. "You're very skilled; no animal would let me do that."

She smiled proudly. "Ixa's good. She had two kids last year and will have two more before this month ends. Omar wouldn't let me help last year, but I'll make him let me this time. I'm grown up enough now."

Her self-assurance made me smile. "You like animals?"

"Oh yes," she said, and instantly lowered her voice. "Later, can I show you something? If you can keep it secret?"

"Of course," _Don't worry_, I added to myself as we walked off. _I'm good at keeping secrets_.

We fell on our food as if we had not eaten for weeks; munching on crisp salad, watermelon and still-warm bread. It was certainly different to the boiled eggs and toast I usually enjoyed back home, and though I craved freshly-ground coffee, there was plenty of the mint tea I had sampled earlier. Salieah warned me about the dangers of not drinking enough, and insisted I carry a water bottle at all times.

"Omar would hamstring me if he thought I didn't look after you." she whispered.

We spent the morning helping to mend one of the irrigation ditches. Salieah handled herself with the confidence of someone three times her age, and seemed to revel in the back-breaking work. The men smiled tolerantly at her, but avoided eye contact with me.

"They don't normally let women do this job," she told me. We had removed our footwear and were standing ankle deep in muddy water. "Omar teaches me to do everything here. He says I must be ready for _anything_."

"Your father's a wise man," I replied, wiping mud off my nose.

"Oh no, he's not my father," Salieah said; looking away and pretending to scratch her arm. "My father died when I was only little. Then my mother remarried and moved away. Omar wanted to keep me here to learn the Tuareg ways, so she let me stay. She went to live in the city, but I would hate that. I would hate to leave this place."

She dug her shovel into the damp earth with rather more force than was necessary, and I didn't ask any more questions on the subject.

"What about you?" she asked brightly. "Do you have family?"

"Not any more," I replied. "My parents died a long time ago. I don't really think about it very much. It doesn't bother me."

"What about brothers? Sisters?" When I shook my head her face widened. "But that's terrible! No one to talk to, no one to have fun with?"

"It's just me. Well, a few friends here and there, but I like to keep to myself. I don't mind." I flung a shovelful of mud over my shoulder and rested a moment. It was starting to get really hot. "Anyway, don't brothers and sisters just get on your nerves, arguing all the time? Taking your stuff, playing tricks on you?"

"Sometimes they do," Salieah grinned. "Omar says everyone in this village is my family, so I have to be kind to even the really mean or stupid kids. I do try," she smirked wickedly. "But I still play tricks on them and they don't mind."

I laughed, and tried to ignore the sudden contraction in my heart. I watched as other children came to refill our water bottles. Salieah mingled and talked happily, and screams of delight rang out as they threw handfuls of mud and cold water at each other. It suddenly struck me that Salieah would never be without people to look after her; who cared about her.

As for me...

I would soon be returning home to a stout old manservant; empty rooms in an empty manor, surrounded by empty grounds…

Had I _really_ meant it when I said it didn't bother me?


	5. Chapter 5

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Part V

_Werner's hand stretched out towards me; his body shrouded by dust and falling rubble. _

"_Hurry Lara! Give me your hand! _Quickly_ girl!"_

"_You're back, Werner? No more Seth?"_

_My voice sounded faint, as if it was coming from very far away…_

"_No time! Your hand Lara! _Give me your hand!"

_I tried to swing up to reach him, but my strength had drained. My grip - already tenuous - started to fail. _

"_Good to see you again Werner…"_

"I couldn't leave you!"

_But he did. _

_Above the pyramid's angry thunder, I heard his limping footsteps retreating. For a moment I was too stunned to feel afraid. _

_But then the darkness swelled up, eager to devour me. My fingers scrabbled uselessly; hope giving way to all-consuming terror… _

_I fell, screaming, with Seth's mocking laughter in my ears._

Ixa's kids were delivered four days after I arrived in the village.

To her delight Salieah was allowed to stay and help; watched over by Omar and Akide. The latter was the closest thing the village had to a vet - a tall, imperious man who held his body straight and rarely spoke. When I approached them, asking if there was anything I might do to help, he gazed at me for a long time before giving a single slow nod and returned to his work.

Near dusk, and with the newborn goats safely nursing, I went to the well to wash the bloody mess from my arms. Putai was sat waiting for me, but did not speak until I had finished.

"Join me for supper?" she asked. She wore a type of sari of brilliant crimson and gold; and her hair, peeping out from under a lightweight scarf, shone pure silver. Charms and bangles jangled from her neck and wrists as she walked with me to the bakery.

She said nothing as we watched our evening meal being made. A man sat kneading dough into flat discs. Small fires lying on the sand were allowed to burn down to embers before being raked away. The dough was then laid on the hot sand, and the smouldering ashes were sandwiched on top to create a crude oven.

To compliment the bread there were onions and tomatoes, melon and coriander; all mixed in with fresh couscous and _tagine_-cooked chicken and preserved lemons. The villagers here ate well.

Now it was getting dark, and people were getting out instruments - hand-drums and rattles, three-stringed lutes and brass horns longer than my arm. Men and woman, young and old, danced and swayed to the singing. The light from a dozen small fires cast an ethereal glow over the whole scene. Warm and contented, I soon found the rhythm winding its way into my blood; it was a song of family and friends, of life, joy and laughter in the middle of howling desert.

"Come Lara, walk with me." Putai whispered into my ear, breaking the spell. Somewhat grudgingly I followed; slipping into the night until we were beyond the village boarder and out of earshot.

For an age we sat beneath the stars; then, "Tell me about the man Von Croy."

Instantly my relaxation was shattered. I was glad that it was dark, so Putai could not see my face clearly. "What do you want to know?"

"Simple; what you know."

"Well, let's see," I sighed. "He's rich, well-known, brilliant, accomplished. Tried to stab me in the back more than once. Oh, and there _was_ that time he let himself be possessed by that Darkness you're so rightly afraid of."

"Do you care about him?"

"Maybe I used to. He's probably the reason I got into archaeology… But ever since I learnt he was still alive he's proven himself a coward and a liar. I couldn't care less what happens to him."

"Why not?"

I half-laughed. "Haven't you been listening? He's a self-serving old fool, nothing more. If he really felt so repentant he would have _helped_ me…"

"Do you really believe that? He did what most people would have done in his place," she remarked matter-of-factly. "The pyramid _was_ collapsing. He was also in danger. His reaction was understandable."

"_I_ wouldn't have run," I said through gritted teeth. "Not if someone I cared about needed me."

"Are you so sure?" she asked mildly.

"Yes!"

"This person you speak of, would you try to help even if they did not ask? If you knew it could save them?

"Possibly."

"Would you be willing to die defending them?"

"If there was no other option… yes. If they were worth saving."

"Then tell me Lara, why have you been running from _yourself_ all these years?"

My words faltered as the gravity of her tone registered fully. "What are you talking about?"

"This friend, this person you would care so deeply about, is _you_. What Von Croy did in the pyramid was only what you have been doing to _yourself_ for so many years. That's why it hurts so much."

I swore. Expecting a frontal attack, I was frightened to find her sneaking up from behind and lashed out, "Look, the only hurt I took in that pyramid was breaking my ankle! I'm perfectly fine! That miracle healing you did worked wonders. In fact, watch. This is me, getting up, walking away without any problems at all…"

"Lara! Come back!"

I kept on walking, seething inside.

"Keep gazing into that crystal ball of yours Putai," I called over my shoulder. "It hasn't shown you anything truthful yet."

My room was blissfully empty as I entered and threw myself down on the pallet. For a while I could only stare into space, Putai's words circling my thoughts like mosquitoes. I longed for something to swat them with.

"I think I know my own mind better than you do, Putai." I muttered, turning over.

Then the realisation hit me.

I hadn't spoken a word about the pyramid, or Werner abandoning me, to anyone…

The scarab amulet woke that night.

I lay awake, paralysed yet able to see clearly in the darkness. I watched it shiver and stand upright on pincer-like legs. The chain restraining it snapped and fell to the floor. Golden antennae waved, tasting the air for my scent. With a shriek it scurried up, over my breast, across the arch of my neck and onto the smooth curve of my cheek.

Sweat beaded my skin; mouth wedged open in a cry of silent revulsion. Inside my body's prison I screamed, fighting with every ounce of willpower to swat the ghastly thing away. Its eyes regarded me; two pinpricks of blood-red light scorning my weakness. It clicked razor-sharp mandibles and I felt sharp feet scuttling into my mouth, onto my tongue.

For a moment it sat motionless, vulnerable. Had I been able to, I would have spat the thing straight out and ground its body into the dust.

But I could not.

Putai's voice seemed to come from my own mouth.

_Now we shall see how deep your truth is buried…_

I was still screaming as I felt the beetle pierce the soft flesh of my palate, burrowing its way deep into my brain.

"Are you all right? You look dreadful."

I plonked my dish of mutton stew down on the table and began to eat without ceremony. My teeth ground and pulped, masticating every mouthful, until I was satisfied it had scoured the dream's memory away and allowed myself to swallow.

Salieah frowned and passed me a water bottle. "Listen, there's something I want to show you, but you must swear to keep it a secret. No one must know apart from you and Putai."

For a moment I wanted to curse that shaman-witch in the foulest language I could think of, but just in time I remembered whose company I was in and merely grunted.

"What is it, Salieah?"

"Just be at the south wall, behind the bakery, after everyone's finished eating."

Without another word she left.

A tiny lizard, shockingly naked, ran across the stone wall in front of me. Before I could blink the hawk had swooped down, black feathers gleaming, and flapped off carrying the pale body away to be eaten in the branches of the acacia.

I smiled, imagining the lizard to be Putai. The amulet lay back in my room, buried in a small pit I had dug last night.

_That will teach her to invade my dreams_, I thought.

Or would it?


	6. Chapter 6

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Part VI

Although the eating area was crowded no one else spoke or even looked at me. It was one small blessing at least; the last thing I wanted was to have to fend off conversation.

Once the meal was over I was left pretty much to myself. Fields needed tending and animals required feeding. No one noticed me slip casually behind the beehive-shaped bakery and along the south wall.

"Lara! Over here." Salieah appeared from behind a stack of barrels and gestured for me to follow.

We worked our way down a narrow, sometimes half-blocked passageway between the sturdiest buildings. I kept my eyes focused on Salieah's billowing headscarf. At last she halted and drew my head close to hers and whispered.

"Please stay quiet, or you'll startle her."

The mystery was solved when we rounded the next corner. It was a small cul-de-sac between the wall and one of the granaries, shaded from the midday sun by old canvases. Lying on the ground, next to a bowl of water and hobbled to a ring in the wall, was a baby gazelle.

Its nostrils flared as Salieah offered her hand to stroke it. To my utter surprise it recognised her scent and relaxed; allowing itself to be cuddled while Salieah dipped her finger in milk for it to suckle.

"Her name's Takaza," she explained softly. "After the necklace my mother used to wear. She's so pretty I though it'd be perfect."

"She's beautiful," I murmured. She was barely the size of a large cat; her ruffled fur a soft, milky beige. Her enormous eyes quivered, wary of my stranger's presence, and Salieah stroked her long, rabbit-like ears to sooth her.

"I found her just before you came here," said Salieah. "I think the last camel train must have frightened her mother away. Omar said she wouldn't survive and I was wasting time to care for her. But I couldn't just leave her alone out there."

Having finished the milk, Takaza nibbled affectionately at Salieah's fingers. The little girl giggled, her face warmed by a grin of pure delight.

"Promise me you'll keep her a secret, Lara," she whispered. "Akide would be furious if he knew I was stealing milk for her."

"I promise."

Could I possibly have said anything else?

I returned to digging the well; I was thoughtful and with a soft glow inside from seeing child and animal together. It was a welcome change from the other feelings I had been plagued with since coming here.

A strange peace descended on the village - and myself. For nearly two weeks I lived the Tuareg routine; losing myself in the struggle of desert life. Akide tolerated my company on his daily rounds of the village animals; checking for worn hooves or broken teeth and tending each creature with silent respect.

I saw little of Omar and nothing of Putai, for which I was eternally thankful. Salieah was my constant companion; always there to instruct me in an unfamiliar task or sit and listen to stories about far off lands.

"I still don't believe you about Atlantis," she teased, late one evening. "Pyramids are made of stone. They're not alive! And monsters don't exist… not real ones. Omar said the only monsters are the ones we create for ourselves."

I decided to remain silent on that point.

On the thirteenth day of my stay Putai came to see me. She was strangely subdued, as if fearing to make me storm off again.

"I came to ask your forgiveness, Lara," she said. I was cutting wood for kindling, hacking and splitting the stout branches with a curved axe Omar had loaned me. Her voice was punctuated with the rhythmic swishing and cracking. "I pushed you too far that night. I am sorry."

"You took your time deciding to say so," I remarked blandly. "What were you waiting for?"

"A sign," _swish-crack!_ "A sign that the Gods had forgiven me," _swish-crack!_ "I was very arrogant, thinking that I could heal you," _swish-crack!_ "I know now that it was wrong of me to try."

I stopped and leaned on the long axe handle. This was not the sort of speech I had expected. "That's very… noble of you. Why the sudden change? I thought you were committed to being my 'spiritual guide'?"

"And I am. But a sign came to me last night, and I realised that I cannot teach you what you need to know, or use my own experience to heal you."

"Then what can?" In a sudden blaze of familiar irritation I swept the axe down, nearly burying it in the log. "I have had enough of your mysticism, Putai! No more promises, no more half-truths. I've given up trying to understand your riddles. Just tell me what I have to do!"

"Ah, _finally_ you ask the right question! Excellent, Lara. You are starting to make progress at last," she beamed, standing and brushing the sand off her robes. "Come to me at the well, at dawn tomorrow, and we shall see if you are ready to begin."

Without another word she bowed and departed.

Just when I thought I had worked Putai out, she still had the power to surprise me.

It was Salieah's misfortune to be the only person in the camp I felt comfortable talking to. During the evening meal she sat listening with mute politeness while I went over the Shaman's visit. Although I'm normally obsessive about keeping my personal feelings locked under control, I desperately felt the need to confide in someone just then.

"And then she has the audacity to say that only now I'm ready to begin!" I scoffed, pausing to take a swig of mint water. "She's been playing games with me from day one. I won't be used, Salieah. She can keep whatever revelations she has to herself. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"But you can't!" Salieah cried, spilling her drink. She tried to take my arm, but I tactfully pulled away. "Lara, please! I thought we were friends! You can't leave!"

"Salieah, I would be leaving anyway," I told her gently. "This isn't my home. You've been a great friend, but I can't let that woman manipulate me. I have to go."

"I'm not afraid of you leaving," she said, suddenly quite calm. "I knew you'd be leaving us soon to go back to England. That's not why I'm sad.

"I'm sad because you're not ready to leave yet. Putai's the shaman, but even_ I_ can see you're not complete. You've been hurt badly by something, and I'd never feel happy about you going if we could still help you. And Putai _can_ still help you. I know she's a sour old bag sometimes, but she's been my friend all my life. I trust her."

"I know she's your friend, but that doesn't change my decision. If I can't be healed I'll just have to find a way to live with it. Trust like yours doesn't come as easily when you've seen the things I've seen, Salieah."

"I know," she whispered, hanging her head. She took a deep breath. "Then if you won't go for yourself, go for me. I… I want to see you better. Please. I couldn't bear it if you just left without trying. You never gave up on your other adventures did you?"

I felt my heart loosen just a little. She was right. This would be the first time ever I backed down from a challenge - the first time I gave up because it was too difficult. Her eyes shone with un-shed tears, proud and frightened at the same time. If I gave up now, I wouldn't just be letting myself down; I would be letting _her_ down as well.

I fought with my pride, but one look at Salieah told me I'd already lost.

"Alright," I said. "If it means that much to you… I'll do it. Just watch me. I won't disappoint either of us."

She nodded, and enveloped me in an awkward hug. My emotional compass, usually so stable, swung drunkenly from affection, embarrassment and unease.

I patted her head restlessly.

What the hell was I letting myself in for?


	7. Chapter 7

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Part VII

A little before first light, Putai and I set out across the desert.

I had arrived at the well to find her fully prepared and packed for a long trek. Ahmak was loaded down with supplies of food, water and fuel, and two more camels would be our primary transport. I donned the white turban and desert robe she offered; her own clothing was dyed a dark violet-blue that appeared almost black. I did not ask where we were headed, and she did not volunteer any information.

In silence she had led the way out through the village and into the emptiness beyond. Ahmak grumbled to himself the whole time, but fortunately my own mount proved to be docile and far less inclined to casual violence.

After nearly two days of trekking across the sands we crossed into the foothills of the mountains. Hot desert wind - the famous _harmattan_ capable of scouring flesh from bone - howled up and down the narrow valleys, forcing our pace down to a crawl. I pulled my turban close and pitied the camels; they advanced with eyes almost shut and necks bent down to better resist the terrible gale.

We took shelter that night beneath two wind-bent acacias. The _harmattan_ kept defying our attempts to build a fire. We ate a meal of dried fruit, onions and cold roast goat-meat, and fell into awkward slumber propped up against the camels' protective backs. 

When I awoke the next morning, I found Putai kneeling in prayer a short distance away. Before I could start breakfast she stood and gestured for me to stop.

"It is necessary that we fast this day. We have entered God's lands, and must show the proper respect. It is not much further."

Her unassuming manner during the journey had assuaged most of my resentment. "Very well. You've brought me this far."

She smiled briefly. "Indeed."

The sun was already warming the air, but I felt a chill running through me. She handed me a jar of something green and pungent, speaking softly as she did so.

"Walk down the gorge until you come to a cleft in the rock. Through the cleft is a passage. Through the passage is an opening. In the opening you will find a spring. Bathe with this ointment and I will come and prepare you."

I took the jar, suddenly feeling quite light-headed. The landscape had taken on a dream-like unreality. A hawk called to me from high above. I was suddenly aware of everything - my breathing and of the grit in my sandals. The wind had all but died away. The chirping of a desert locust nicked my ears like tiny knives.

The cleft turned out to be no more than a narrow opening in the cliff-face. I felt my way through the darkness; savouring the feel of cool stone beneath my fingers, and emerged into a natural courtyard.

The walls were steep-sided and enclosed a tumble of flattened boulders like a weatherworn staircase. Soft mosses and red-blooming cacti flourished in careless abandon. The spring Putai had spoken of burbled up silently from a hidden crevice; filling the natural depression in the courtyard's centre with glorious turquoise water. It sparkled invitingly as I approached.

_A little piece of heaven in the middle of the desert_, I thought, unwrapping my turban.

I undressed and lowered myself slowly into the water. It was quite deep and pleasantly cold, making my breathing quicken. The jar contained a coarse paste that, when massaged into my skin, left me feeling cleaner than I had in weeks. I untangled my hair, noting with astonishment how much it had grown.

Putai was waiting for me when I finally climbed out. She had changed from her desert attire into a midnight-blue robe, and gold peeped from around her turban, wrists, ears and neck. The Eye of Horus, outlined in black antimony, adorned her left eye.

"Please Lara, sit down with me. You must be prepared."

My ritual had begun.

Putai's humming settled into a steady rhythm; one-two, one-two, one-one-two, one-one-two, one-two, one-two… a beat to mirror my pulse as I knelt naked on the sands. Her fingers danced lightly over my skin: forehead, cheek bones and neck, describing unseen designs in coal-black paint. From my neck she hung amulets of lapis lazuli and jasper, threaded on cords of fine golden silk. They felt as cold as chunks of carved ice against my skin.

Wands of incense appeared and wound ribbons of opium-scented smoke into the air. The smell served to heighten my dizziness, but I only felt a lingering peace instead of nausea. My body was clothed in a simple toga of white linen, and a lamb's wool mantle was draped across my bare shoulders. I was aware of her sitting behind me, droning her desert-tune as she combed out my hair and anointed it with sweet-smelling oils. The humming lulled me, calming my thoughts.

My eyes opened.

In shock I saw that night had fallen. Putai was nowhere to be seen. Torchlight flickered on the black pool. I stood looking at my reflection without recognising myself. A water skin lay nearby, and remembering Salieah's advice I stooped and filled it to the brim.

And then I began to hear the music.

Its haunting melody drew me back to the cleft and out into the moonlit desert, pulling me down the gorge like an invisible thread. My bare feet felt the subtlest of changes in the sand. By some instinct I looked up. From high in the branches of an acacia, a single hawk sat watching me.

I blinked, and saw that the hawk was only an illusion; a collection of shadows that when viewed from the right angle made up the shape of a bird. The music was definitely louder here; I heard resonant strings and flutes set against drums and rattles.

I shifted back so I could see the hawk once more, and noticed it was guarding an arched entrance cleverly hidden by the tree's gnarled roots. Stepping through them I entered.

It was like being back in the womb. I felt my way along dim passageways, almost choking on the hot, smoke-laden air, until I came to a chamber barely large enough to stand upright in. A single torch sputtered fitfully, casting dancing shadows over a central pedestal topped with a bowl. The Eye of Horus, picked out with onyx and white jade, gazed back at me from its centre.

Memories stirred.

Lifting the water skin, I carefully poured out enough to just fill the sacred bowl; my sacrifice asking permission to continue. The wall before me split and swung inward on oiled hinges. Setting my reservations aside, I walked on into the source of the ghostly music.

Putai was there; sitting before a statue of the falcon-god. His arms were raised as if to embrace her. The shaman's eyes stretched open and gleamed black in the light from two enormous braziers. Her hands continuously beat upon a cow-hide drum, and sweat dotted her dark skin. She gave no sign of having noticed me.

I knelt, and waited for the Gods to arrive.

An hour went by with no change. I was thirsty, but did not dare reach for my water skin.

Time dragged on, until I lost track of all around me. Putai never stopped her drum-beating. It became as vital to life as breathing.

Gradually my legs, back and shoulders succumbed to cramp, burning and aching. I pictured the oasis in my mind and forced out all other thoughts. I squinted at the shaman. Her head lolled and spittle ran from the corners of her mouth, but still she kept on drumming.

My whole body swayed from dehydration, but my whole _world_ was centred on the statue before me, gleaming blood-red in the firelight. The entire room echoed with the sound of chanting; like voices of the dead coming to usher me away…

_For I have served the God of Light, Horus, at the time of plagues… into his likeness, set in stone…_

In the gathering dark I whispered the words… or maybe heard only the memory of words, etched on the tomb walls so many miles and a lifetime away…

_Into his temple beneath the ageless Pyramid… he is once more poised to battle and defeat Seth…I couldn't leave you… 'Tis a sad day Winston… Things in the vaults… We will hold her forever… Get out! Get out of the way… It is almost time… _

It was deathly cold.

I opened my eyes; stared out over a panorama of white. It was snowing hard. I felt the flakes melting where they alighted on my skin. Encircling mountains caged me in a maze of snowbound gorges and peaks.

I heard the engines long before I saw the plane.

And remembered.

"No," I whispered, watching it fall from the darkening sky. "Not again!"

The fuselage struck an outcrop and plunged down. It hit the glacier beneath, sliding crazily, leaving a trail of metal and burning fuel. A wing sheared off; twisting the body of the plane. It reached the yawning crevasse, seeming to hang in the air.

The smoke burned my lungs, just as it had all those years ago. I fell to my knees in the snow. Its pristine whiteness was speckled with soot, and I glanced up just long enough to see a single figure struggling free of the wreckage. She held back, trying to pull someone to safety. The ice beneath her buckled, forcing her to retreat.

My screams were echoed by that of my younger self, as both our families plunged into the crevasse and were lost in the explosion that followed.

_And you have been running from them ever since._

I sobbed desperately. "I could have done something! I _should_ have done _something!_"

_You_ survived_, Lara. That was the hardest thing anyone could have done. Most would have let themselves die then, rather than face life alone._

"I could have saved them! _Why… couldn't… I… save… them?!"_

_You have carried this guilt ever since. It is the heaviest burden of them all._

"I _could _have saved them…"

_No. You could not._

"Feast your eyes on this Lara. How does that make your wallet rumble?"

"I'm sorry, I only play for sport."

"Then you'll like a big park. Peru? Vast mountain ranges to cover, sheer walls of ice, rocky crags, savage winds…And there's this little trinket…"

The image of the Scion spun before my eyes.

"I always took the hardest quests, the toughest expeditions. I never resist adventure." I whispered.

_You were running from yourself. Running from the pain, the anger, the guilt..._

"Running kept me alive. Without the challenge I'm nothing. I might as well be dead."

_You have not mourned. In all the years you have not _once_ acknowledged your loss and found your true strength. _You_ are the greatest challenge you have yet to face, Lara. _

"And so the pupil excels the master. I congratulate you on your agility."

A young girl knelt in front of a carved stone, too immersed in reading the cracked faded script to pay much attention to the much older man behind her.

"Take your prize from the plinth, you have earned it."

Idly she brushed a strand of hair out her eyes.

Brown hair… hazel eyes…

"It warns of vengeance on those who remove it…" she said quietly.

_You knew the prize was always within you, waiting for the day you allowed yourself to claim it. Your own freedom is already within you._

I felt warm arms embracing me, comforting me. My father had never hugged me, but I would have wanted it to feel like this. I reached out to the warmth; wiping away the tears of rage I had carried with me for so long.

"I think I understand."

There was snow beneath my feet. Calmly now, I walked to the glacier's edge, turning to watch the plane.

"I could not have saved them."

A wing was cruelly wrenched off as it careened past. Smoke billowed out and rained soot onto the virgin snowfields.

"I survived."

_They died because their time had come._

"All this time… I was trying to prove that I was alive, that I was strong enough to take on anything. What an idiot I've been."

_No, Lara. You were simply blinded. You had to gaze into your own death to have your sight restored._

"Is that what I am? Restored? Healed?"

_Not yet, but now you know how to heal yourself._

"I think… that's possible."

_Anything is possible._

"_Quickly girl!_ Before it collapses around you!"

The earth's trembling was so ferocious I could barely stand. A rock the size of my head smashed into me, breaking ribs, knocking me back.

Ahead there was light.

Behind me... only darkness.

I looked up into Werner's desperate face, and my new-found peace evaporated.

"_You!_ You could have saved me! You _coward!"_

_Lara, his own heart is for him to understand._

"If I can master myself he should too! If not, he's weak and I hate him! _I hate him!"_

"_I couldn't leave you!_"

"You already have!"

My hand slipped. The darkness claimed me.

_You have forgiven yourself. Now you must learn to forgive others as well._

"Not him! Never him!"

_Peace, Lara. You will learn… in time._

My head struck something sharp, and my whole world vanished.


	8. Chapter 8

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Part VIII

I smelled smoke.

My eyes opened, and gazed up at the night sky. Stars were scattered there like shards of crystal. An owl hooted softly.

I rolled over. Putai gazed back at me from across the campfire.

"How do you feel?"

I sat up. My ribs were unbroken, my tears dried.

"I feel… changed," I whispered. "Softer… calmer."

"He has drained the poison from your heart, Lara. You've carried it so long you've forgotten it was there. Please, try to eat something."

I accepted the flask of water and bread; simple fare to welcome the spirit back into the body. Ahmak and the other camels stood nearby; lumpy shadows stoically chewing the cud.

When I had finished, Putai reverently took back the many amulets I had worn; placing each with care into its own little cloth bag. She offered me damp rags, and I wiped the sacred markings from my face and arms. My skin felt deliciously cool. All my senses tingled, every muscle poised and controlled. In one leap I might have soared up and touched the stars.

But that could wait until after sleep.

Tomorrow, we would start the trek home.

As soon as the village appeared on the horizon I knew something was not right.

I straightened in the saddle, straining to look for signs of trouble. Putai asked me what was wrong. I could only shake my head.

As we got closer, we started to hear shouting. Men were running to and fro. The children were frantic with activity, or crowded together with their families and weeping.

I dismounted before we'd even crossed the village threshold, and grabbed Omar's arm as he ran past.

"What's happening Omar? What's wrong?"

"It's Salieah! Akide said she didn't show up to feed the goats. Nobody knew where she was. That was two days ago," his voice rang with desperation, and I had to run to keep pace with him as he moved towards the well.

My heart seemed to stop beating.

Suddenly I knew where she was.

"She fell, didn't she?"

He nodded, leaping up to where men were clustered around the well outlet. The pulley framework had been laboriously dismantled. Teams of men worked with shovels flinging great clods of earth and sand away to enlarge the hole.

I jumped up, pushing them aside. Nobody challenged me, and I lay down to peer through the well opening.

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I made out a tiny figure about ten meters down. I called her name, and a mud-splattered face slowly lifted to meet my gaze. The air down there must have been twenty degrees colder than it was at ground level.

"Give me that shovel!" I yelled, stripping off my heavy outer robe. I took the proffered tool and started digging. Immediately everyone else resumed working, as if my actions had broken their trance.

I felt the sweat sting my eyes; smarting the raw skin on my hands where they grasped the wooden handle. Soon the opening was large enough for me to climb through. My barked orders were obeyed without question. I was hitched to a series of ropes, and carefully lowered myself through the hole.

"Salieah!"

I felt my way down; the air was growing chill. In the almost total darkness my feet suddenly sloshed in water. I drew Salieah's body towards my own.

She was half frozen with exhaustion, but I felt a pulse and heard her ragged breathing. She was alive.

I shifted to a fireman's grip, and the men above heaved on the ropes. Together we made it to the surface. I pushed Salieah through ahead of me, and soon was kneeling over her body while Akide and Putai checked her. Omar was beside himself; wringing his hands and calling her name.

"Salieah! You're safe, it's alright. You're safe now. I'm here."

Her eyes opened the barest fraction, but definitely recognized me.

"Sorry, so sorry Lara…"

I pulled her close, letting my warmth infuse her. She seemed so thin and fragile. "It's alright, you're safe."

"Takaza… went missing I couldn't… saw her in the water, tried… to reach… slipped… sorry Lara… I'm so sorry…"

I got to my feet, cradling her, and nodded to Omar. Gently I transferred her to his arms, and with a smile of silent gratitude he walked back towards his hut. People were watching me. Their faces held gratitude; no longer afraid to look me in the eye.

I felt Putai come up behind me and take my arm; steering me towards a place we could sit by ourselves.

"That was a very brave thing you did."

"I didn't think I just… acted."

"Nevertheless… there are few who would risk themselves so willingly. The well was unstable. It could have collapsed. You would both have died."

"That's not important. It didn't and she's safe. That's all I care about." I suddenly became aware of my muddy, sodden clothes and gave a chuckle. "Well, _almost_."

This time there was genuine warmth in Putai's smile. "Come then. I'll find you some dry clothes. And some food."

To everyone's relief Salieah made a full recovery. Only a day after her rescue she was sitting with me, kicking her heels against the wall, as we shared a last meal. Omar, Akide and Putai sat nearby, but we were far enough away from the glow of the camp fires to have some privacy.

"I'll miss Takaza," she whispered, staring into the dancing flames. "I should have taken better care of her… made sure she didn't wander off."

"Salieah, you loved her very much. That's all that really matters now. You mustn't keep blaming yourself."

She nodded, pretending to rub some grit out of her eyes. We sat finishing the last few bites of our food.

"Do you _really_ have to go?"

I put my arm around her narrow shoulders.

"Yes. I must."

"Will you ever come back?"

"Who knows?" I chuckled. "Anything is possible."

"I hope so. I'll miss you."

She reached into a pocket and drew out something on a fine cord.

"Take this with you. Then I'll know you'll come back."

"Salieah…"

"Please," she insisted. "I want you to have it."

I held it up to the firelight. It was an amulet like the ones I had seen many Tuareg wear; a dark silver charm of unusual design. It reminded me a little of the Egyptian ankh.

The Tuareg Cross.

"It was mother's," Salieah said. "Please wear it. Don't forget me."

I slipped it around my neck and hugged her.

"I could never forget you. You'll see me again one day."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She was sleeping soundly when I brought her back to Omar, and slipped away to pack my things.

It took us nearly three weeks to return to Cairo.

I was just beginning to get used to the new feeling inside of me. Putai asked me not to share my experiences with anyone, not even her. In some ways I was glad. I knew I had changed, but the thought of having to explain why again and again to the world filled me with loathing. This was to be my secret, a source of strength no one could take away.

When at last the Pyramids came into view above the afternoon's heat haze, I knew we were almost there.

"I must leave you here, Lara," she said that evening. The city's lights glistened only a few miles away. "The desert, not the city, is my home."

I nodded, troubled to be facing our parting so suddenly.

We entered the suburbs together, just so she could purchase supplies for the return trip. To be among crowds again was disquieting, and I felt a craving for the empty dunes and unending horizon.

Putai seemed to be taking forever to choose a new saddle strap. I must have stood waiting for an hour, avoiding Ahmak's temperamental spitting and watching passers-by, before she finally emerged from the shop.

"Sorry to keep you Lara. Please forgive me."

I raised my eyebrows. "You alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she took Ahmak's reins, but the animal immediately blanched from her touch. It took both of us to bring him under control, and she quickly lashed the new straps to his saddle.

"Are you _sure_ you'll be alright on your own?" I asked, feeling an odd doubt twist in my guts. She seemed strangely anxious; quite unlike what I had come to expect of her.

"You've no need to worry, Lara," she said, managing a smile. We had finally subdued Ahmak enough to let her mount, but his eyes and lips were rolled back in a rictus of fear. "I'm quite safe. Where will you go from here?"

I shrugged.

"Well since I'm _supposed_ to be dead I'll go to the British Embassy, get a shower, some clean clothes, something to eat… I should be able to get a plane back to London pretty soon. I can contact my manservant as well; let him know what's happened to me."

Putai leaned down so she could touch my shoulder, a faint smile on her lips. "I will see you again soon, Lara Croft."

I shook her hand. The skin felt oddly greasy, as if she'd been handling soap.

"Take care of yourself Putai. And thank you."

With a nod, she dug her heels in Ahmak's sides until the camel reluctantly started walking. I watched, unable to move, until she finally disappeared into the crowd.


	9. Chapter 9

© Jennifer R. Milward 2006

This story is a work of fiction. Lara Croft, her likeness, and the Tomb Raider games are all copyright of EIDOS Interactive. There is no challenge to these copyrights intended by this story, as it is a non-sanctioned, unofficial work of the author's own.

Epilogue

_Two years later_

A thick drizzle dotted the windows as I lay in bed, contemplating the wonderful softness of my cotton sheets and the feeling of peace glowing deep inside me. There was a knock on my bedroom door. Winston appeared with a breakfast tray. The smell of freshly-made toast and coffee wafted towards me, mingling with the scent of the orchids on my nightstand.

"My Lady?"

"Thank you Winston. You're most kind."

He dipped his head in his customary bow. The initial shock and subsequent fuss my reappearance had caused had long since worn off. I had almost collapsed from the bear hug he had thrown around me as I got off the plane; before he remembered himself and decorously led the way to a waiting car. Hordes of photographers from all the major newspapers were left standing in the rain as I calmly climbed inside; ignoring their bribes and demands for interviews.

He handed me the morning paper. "Will you require anything else, my Lady?"

"Thank you Winston, no. I have everything I need." I smiled; shaking out the paper and sipping my coffee.

Coffee! It was something I had once craved daily, yet now it was simply a pleasant accompaniment to breakfast. I kept meaning to sample some Arabian and African teas, hoping to find the one I had enjoyed in the desert. Returning home had come as a shock in more ways than one.

"Let's see… lottery winners strike it lucky - again. The Prime Minister is asked to resign, nothing new there. A serial killer on the loose in Paris baffles police…"

I tossed the paper down and got up to dress, wiping crumbs off my lips. Outside, the March skies were heavy, promising rain all day. The gardens were almost hidden behind a curtain of low mist, dotting the new shoots and buds with tiny jewels. I donned jeans and a tee-shirt, as an afterthought flinging on a light jacket to keep my shoulders warm. My manor has always been draughty no matter how much the family spent on it.

I was just settling down to do some research in the library when Winston popped his head around the door.

"My Lady, there's an urgent phone call for you. Would you like me to take it?"

"It's all right," The old man had always been so protective of me; despite my many escapades. I was grateful for the way he had handled the barrage of calls on my return, but they had all but disappeared as my public status dropped from headliner to recluse. I hadn't attended any seminars or made any public appearances for over twenty-six months. My mind had been too pastoral, too grateful for its long sabbatical, to give a damn about what others might be thinking about my retreat.

"Hello? Lady Croft speaking."

"Lara? _Lara! _Thank God you're really alive!"

My pulse quickened, and I felt venom rise within my throat.

"I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner, Lara. When I learnt you'd returned to England I thought…"

"Hello Werner," I clenched my teeth. "Long time no see."

"Lara, please forgive me. I… that is… I can only offer you my sincere apologies, Lara. I was a coward, I know. _Please_ forgive me."

I fought down the impulse to scream at him _Yes! You were a coward! You were only thinking of saving your own skin, which is all you really care about!_

Instead, I cleared my throat and made an effort to sound civil.

"I understand, Werner. Apology accepted."

"Oh thank you, Lara. This means so much… I… I don't know what to say. Well, except that I'm so relieved you made it out alive. You… you really are the greatest student I ever taught-"

"Enough with the flattery, Von Croy. You've had two years to grovel. What do you really want?" I snapped. He went quiet for a few moments, until I half-thought the line had been cut. But then he spoke again, genuine remorse in his voice.

"I'm sorry. Forgive a foolish old man. I wanted to return something to you; something you left behind. We found your backpack, while we were clearing the rubble. When you weren't there we assumed… that is… I assumed-"

"You called me just to say you _have my old backpack?_" I spluttered, stunned into incredulity. My earlier feelings towards him seemed to be vindicated.

"No, no, Lara, please. Please. Come to Paris. I had it restored and everything. I want to return it to you. After all, it is my fault you lost it in the first place."

His wheedling tone restrained my urge to slam the handset back on the desk. However, there were undercurrents in his voice that made my new awareness prickle with foreboding. I forced myself to take several deep breaths.

"Okay. I'll be there. Just don't try to play around with me Werner."

"Oh thank you Lara. Yes, I'll… I'll make all the arrangements for you. You know my address at the Chantell Building? Of course you do, forgive me. I'll be waiting for you. And maybe we can have a chat about this whole business, yes? There's much I wish to discuss with you."

"_Goodbye_ Werner."

"Goodbye Lara."

I put the phone down, a sinking feeling in my heart. I had only just begun to settle back into my life. The last thing I wanted was to reopen old wounds.

_Well,_ I thought, picking up the phone once more. _At least I shan't be away for long._


End file.
